


hear you me

by sundazed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pain, pls dont read if you're not ready for heavy shit rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundazed/pseuds/sundazed
Summary: Renjun's gone.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung & Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	hear you me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry in advance. 
> 
> ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ'ˢ ˢᵃᵏᵉ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶦᵐᵃᵍᶦⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᶦᵛᵉ ᶦⁿ ˢᵘᵇᵘʳᵇᶦᵃ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᶦᵍ, ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉˢ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᶦᵍ, ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ ᵗʳᵉᵉˢ ᵉˣᵗʳᵉᵐᵉˡʸ ˢᵐᶦᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵇᵒʸˢ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜˡᶦᵐᵇ

Yukhei slips through the window with the agility of a cat and lands on the carpeted floor of Renjun’s room with an almost soundless thud. 

The very first time he did it, his landing had been seismic, almost waking up the entire household. His clumsiness and lack of self-awareness (“You’re not as small or light as you think, Yukhei!”) were punctuated by Renjun doubling over in muffled laughter as he guided Yukhei deeper into his bedroom. It had been past midnight, way past both their curfews, and Yukhei wasn’t supposed to be there, wasn’t supposed to be the boy Renjun took home. But there was something with the way Renjun smiled reassuringly at him that dissolved all of Yukhei’s doubts. 

Now it’s four years later, and Renjun is gone, but he would’ve been impressed. It’s a skill Yukhei developed over the years—one that he found most useful on restless nights when his only refuge was the boy with glow-in-the-dark stars on his walls and the warmest pair of hands Yukhei has ever held. 

Yukhei isn’t supposed to be here, but the comfort that comes once Yukhei’s eyes adjust is instantaneous, like him being in this room again was the most natural thing in the world. He feels his heart physically lighten once he’s reoriented himself in the emptiness of the room—the picture frames and paintings and posters, all illuminated by the lamp post outside, greeting him a silent hello. 

Renjun is in a place Yukhei has never been, doing things Yukhei has never done and meeting people he’s never met. And yet, Yukhei could picture him vividly. 

From the general plan Renjun had shown him a year ago, Yukhei could see Renjun sound asleep in his dorm room, filled with bits and pieces of home he’d taken with him. Tomorrow morning, Renjun would have the same cereal he’s had since he was a kid—he won’t be rushing because he’d get up before his alarm clock (he always does), with enough time to spare to buy jasmine tea on his way to class. He’d sit in the lecture hall all morning, listening to his professors ramble on about chiaroscuro and color theories. He’d probably lend his seatmate a pen—he always brings extras for a reason—then come afternoon, he’d walk around the university, get himself acquainted with the buildings and greenery, as he waited for his next class. He’d call home in the evening, reassuring Mom and Dad, for the hundredth time, that things were going swimmingly, and then Yukhei would ring him and they’ll talk about their weekend plans.

Yukhei could see it clearly, but none of it would be true. 

But this, _here_ , is real. It’s past midnight, and the house is asleep. Yukhei takes off his shoes, settling them on the window sill like he always did, and pads towards the closet, which creaks softly as he opens it. It looks untouched; Doyoung said he hasn’t had the heart to go through—much less donate—any of Renjun’s things. That was four months ago. 

He recognizes Renjun’s favorite one right away—an oversized (at least on Renjun) blue wool sweater. Yukhei remembers how Renjun wore it that very first night Yukhei came over, how Renjun had brazenly taken off his outside clothes, right in front of Yukhei, and slipped on a pair of pajamas and the sweater. Yukhei wanted to scoop him up then.

Yukhei retrieves the sweater, careful. He takes a whiff—it’s cruel how faint the scent of Renjun is now. He takes it with him to the bed anyway.

Yukhei slips under the covers and presses his cheeks against the pillow, searching for a ghost of his scent or his warmth. Instead, it only smells like detergent. He drags a palm over the expanse of the sheets and finally notices how pristine and unwrinkled it is. Doyoung must have changed it. 

Something pricks at Yukhei’s chest. He curls up, makes himself as small as he feels, and clutches Renjun’s sweater. Tight—like his life depended on it. Because at this moment, it feels like it does. 

Renjun barges into memories whenever he wants to; he appears in thoughts, daydreams, and broken pieces of déjà vu. But now, for some reason, even when Yukhei is lying alone here in this empty shell of a room, away from distractions and intrusions, with only his thoughts and the entire history of Renjun plastered on the walls to keep him company, Yukhei’s mind is clear. 

And for the first time in months, Yukhei drifts peacefully into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_“If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” Renjun had asked him one afternoon when they were sprawled on the field after Yukhei’s soccer practice. Renjun lay on his side to face Yukhei, the sun setting the sky ablaze behind him, almost blinding Yukhei._

_Yukhei shifted so he could lie on his back instead, taking Renjun’s hand and closing his eyes as he pondered on the question. He appreciated Renjun’s patience, and Renjun had said he appreciated the way Yukhei always took his questions seriously, no matter how random or silly, so Yukhei took his time._

_“I want to be a time traveler.”_

_“Why?” Giving Yukhei’s hand a squeeze, Renjun propped himself up with his elbow. A frown bloomed on Renjun’s face as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you have a lot of regrets?”_

_“Not really, no.” Yukhei smoothened the crease on Renjun’s forehead with his thumb before mimicking Renjun’s position. He laces their fingers together before raising his eyes to meet Renjun’s. “I don’t want to change anything. There are just a lot of moments I want to relive. You?”_

_Renjun paused, concentration once again wrinkling his forehead. “I wish I could take people’s pain away.”_

_“Well, that makes my superpower super selfish now, huh?”_

_Renjun laughed instantly, eyes wrinkling into half-moons, and Yukhei couldn’t help but join in. That was a good day._

* * *

  
  


The door opens and the light from the hallway spills into the room. When Yukhei blinks his eyes open, dawn is only just about to break. Yukhei’s back is to the door, so Yukhei hears him before he could see him. 

“Yukhei? Is that you?”

Yukhei turns around and he has to shield his eyes from the sudden intrusion of light. Even in his grogginess, Yukhei recognizes the figure right away. “Hyung?” 

Doyoung releases an audible sigh of relief and walks forward, leaving the door open behind him in favor of turning on the lights in the room. 

“You scared me, Yukhei.” This is said calmly, no trace of said fear. “How did you get in?” There’s a genuine curiosity in his voice, not a tinge of accusation, and Yukhei has to sit up straight against the bed frame to wake himself up. 

Still frazzled, Yukhei simply says, “The window.” Doyoung glances at it on impulse, regarding Yukhei’s tattered Chucks with a nod, as if it’s a normal occurrence, and Yukhei wonders if Doyoung knew, all this time, about his and Renjun’s midnight meetings. Yukhei wonders, but he doesn’t ask. 

“You could’ve called me, I would’ve let you in. Mom and Dad wouldn’t mind, either. They miss you.” Doyoung moves to sit on the foot of the bed and Yukhei hugs his knees to his chest to give him room. Yukhei doesn’t realize he’s still clutching Renjun’s sweater till Doyoung points it out. “He wore that all the time, huh?” 

Yukhei nods. 

Then he makes the mistake of making eye contact—the very first time, he realizes, since Doyoung entered the room—and Yukhei aches. With the light hitting just the side of his face, Doyoung looks even more like Renjun. From his nose to the highest point of his cheeks tapering to his chin gracefully—a work of art. They both have unique-looking eyes, though, but they gave Yukhei that same soft, fragile look when they’re sad. 

Their striking resemblance had always been a novelty Yukhei enjoyed pointing out, but now it just feels like a shiv to the gut. 

When Renjun first invited Yukhei over for dinner with his family, Doyoung had been the one to answer the door. Immediately, Yukhei confirmed that natural charm and cuteness runs in the family. But there was something with the way Doyoung regarded him then—guarded, a little icy—that stopped Yukhei from blurting it right out. 

Yukhei immediately got along with their parents—with their dad through their shared love of basketball and rice, and with their mom through their shared love of Renjun and watching him squirm at skinship. Doyoung was the last to soften to him, and Yukhei realizes in hindsight that it wasn’t because he hated Yukhei’s guts, but because he loved Renjun too much; he was only afraid of seeing Renjun get hurt. 

Well, funny how that turned out. 

“I come here when I dream of him,” Doyoung confesses as if he needs to explain why he’d go to his brother’s room in the middle of the night. “I… dream a lot about him these days.”

There is an unprecedented vulnerability and rawness in Doyoung’s voice, and then there’s Yukhei, whose eyes mistakenly drift to the painting hanging adjacent to Doyoung’s face. The one of a field of daffodils. The one that Renjun had painted on their last good day.

“I went out with my friends today,” Yukhei starts, blinking back the tears already threatening to fall. “I sat there, just listening to them talk about the special person they’ve found and the plans they have for the new semester. And I-I just—suddenly felt lost.”

“And I know it’s dumb to wish and long for him still, but I missed him. I _miss_ him. I miss him telling me that things will be okay. That we could just wing it, and it would be a good year. I just—I just want to be able to hold him again.”

Yukhei wants to go on and lay his heart on the constellation-filled sheets, but the words get stuck in his throat. 

He wants to say that he misses every single thing: the way Renjun fell asleep with his limbs draped over Yukhei’s chest, his heartbeat getting steadier and his face looking more immaculately peaceful with every passing second. How Yukhei’s heart tried to hammer its way out of his chest when Renjun came closer, as if it were physically possible. 

How Renjun sang to him, moon-struck, and how Renjun kissed him insane. How Renjun laughed and cried, sometimes at the same time. How Renjun sometimes lovingly called him Xuxi, solely because it’s what they had on their first date. 

How warmth spread across Yukhei’s chest whenever they touched or just talked—about things they dreamed about and what made their stomachs lurch and everything in between. How Renjun’s smile lit up every single one of his gloomy days. How Renjun was the only one who knew how to make kimbap just the way Yukhei likes it. 

It’s been a year, and Yukhei still doesn’t know how to live with the chronic sting in his heart from waiting for someone who’ll never come back. 

Yukhei doesn’t tell Doyoung any of this, but the look Doyoung gives him tells him he somehow already knows. 

Doyoung gives Yukhei’s confession the pause it needs, inching closer and resting a comforting hand on Yukhei’s trembling shoulder. 

“I know it isn’t the same when Renjun says it, but we’ll be okay,” Doyoung says with so much conviction that Yukhei almost believes that Doyoung’s also trying to convince himself. “You’ll be okay.” 

“I know. S-sometimes my brain just fools me into thinking the rain would never end and sometimes—“ Yukhei feels the tears finally escape him. “—s-sometimes, I miss him enough to believe it.” 

“There’s no rationality for the way we feel sometimes.” The softness in Doyoung’s eyes and the steadiness in his voice pierces through Yukhei’s chest. “Just let yourself feel Yukhei. Let yourself grieve. But don’t forget that great things can still happen to you, even when you feel like shit. Accept that, embrace it.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him,” Yukhei admits.

“Then don’t.” Doyoung smiles, understanding. “I mean, _I_ never planned on stopping. Besides, if someone else comes along, you can always make room in that—“ Doyoung pokes Yukhei’s chest “—bi~ig heart of yours. He’ll understand. He’d want his favorite person to be happy.”

When Renjun and Yukhei had little fights, it was always Doyoung Renjun went to for advice. Not his best friend Jaemin, not Mom nor Dad. Not their youngest brother Chenle, nor his self-proclaimed love expert friend Donghyuck. It was always Doyoung. 

“Thank you, hyung,” Yukhei says when he’s run out of tears to cry and words to say. 

Doyoung gives Yukhei’s shoulder one final squeeze before rising from the bed and heading towards the door. “Come down for breakfast when you’re ready. I’m making waffles.” 

Doyoung is just about to close the door behind him when he turns around. “Call me next time, Yukhei. You’ll break your back if you try climbing that tree again. Okay?”

Yukhei assures him he will. And it’s only when the door has clicked close that Yukhei realizes that the sun has come up. Time always felt like it stalled whenever he was here. 

He looks around the sundrenched room and lets himself breathe everything in. The familiarity gives him comfort; even when he’s gone, Yukhei could feel Renjun’s warmth radiate from all that he’s left behind. 

Yukhei doesn’t know for how long he sits there in comfortable silence, but when he finally gets up, he could hear the house jostle awake, too. 

He takes his time making the bed, takes his time returning the sweater in the closet, takes his time fixing himself in front of the mirror. 

When he’s ready, he grabs his shoes from the window sill and walks to the door. 

“Goodbye,” Yukhei whispers, not quite sure whom he’s addressing it to. Yukhei only promised he won’t sneak in again, but part of him feels like this is also the last time he’ll be in here. 

“I’ll always love you, Injun-ah,” Yukhei says with finality, before leaving the room as he found it, but not untouched. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse. I miss them dearly.
> 
> (title taken from jimmy eat world's song of the same name)
> 
> kudos, comments appreciated!


End file.
